


Winter is here

by LadyBaelish0179



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Falling In Love, Flashbacks, Fluff, Intoxication, Manipulation, Shameless Smut, Understanding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-29
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2018-07-27 13:19:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7619608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyBaelish0179/pseuds/LadyBaelish0179
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jon is King in the North. Petyr knows he's planted the seed of doubt in Sansa's head. After the feast, Petyr retires to his chambers with warm wine and has a warm bath drawn. Sansa just knows that his door won't be bolted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the first fic I've ever posted anywhere, any comments or input are appreciated! Also, this could be a multi-chapter story if anyone is interested in what happens next, but of not it can stay a one shot :)

_His blood boiled. He couldn't think straight. He knew he had to fight for her, for she was his. This northern brute could never love her the way he did. All the small heroes won in the songs, he thought. He continued to watch them walk through the small gardens at Riverrun._

_"Tomorrow, Brandon, I will challenge you to a duel for my lady. When I defeat you, she'll have to marry me." He said smugly to himself. There was no doubt in his mind that the outcome would be any different. He stayed lost in thought until a knock sounded about his door._

_"Petyr, are you in there?" He heard Lysa say. He groaned a bit internally, but then he figured he could at least use the girl as practice._

_"Come in," he replied._

_Opening the heavy wooden door, Lysa appeared and scurried into his room, quickly shutting and bolting the door. She turned around and leaned against the wood and just stared at him for a few moments._

_"Is there something you need, my lady?" Petyr asked. They were close friends, but Petyr still needed to remember his place, remember that he would never truly be one of them._

_"I was bored and wanted to play," the girl said. "Cat is with that man and Edmure is shooting his bow. Would you play with me, Petyr?". He doubted he could say no, as he had no previous engagements. He took this opportunity and his knowledge of her feelings for him to his advantage._

_"Of course, my lady. What sort of game do you wish to play?" He said as he walked slowly towards her. With the distance between them closing, he could see her chest rising and falling a bit more rapidly the closer he got. "What sort of a game do bored ladies play?"._

_With him close enough for her to reach him, she grabbed him and pulled him to herself and began kissing him. This was by no means the redhead he wished to be kissing, but Petyr took the opportunity to be the best kisser he could for Cat. He reciprocated as best as he could with what knowledge he had. He thought about when both Lysa and Cat played this game with him, before Brandon the Northern Brute came along._

_Getting a bit carried away, Petyr slipped his hand into her braided hair, and with his eyes closed, he could almost pretend it wasn't Cats younger sister he was with. That is, until the younger girl tried to slip her tongue into his mouth, and his eyes shot open and he quickly made and excuse to leave._

_*****_

_Petyr had spent the night planning out his attack. He would challenge Brandon after the castle had broken it's fast. They would duel, he would win, and Cat would be his. He smiled to himself as he got out of bed to dress himself. Shortly, everything he had ever wanted would be his._

_Finding the tunic and cloak he was searching for, Petyr left his chambers and made his way to the dining hall. He would eat, he would prepare, and then he would challenge Brandon. He was buzzing with adrenaline, nervous and excited._

_Well after everyone in the castle had finished the morning meal, Petyr decided to confront Brandon on his walk with Cat._

_"Brandon Stark," Petyr began. As the couple turned to acknowledge him, he continued, "I challenge you to a duel for Catlyn Tully," he said confidently. He knew that was how the songs began. He was unaware, however, that the challenged man would laugh at him._

_"You wish to duel me for my Lady? Do you wish to embarrass yourself?" The northerner replied, still chuckling._

_"I wish to fight for her honor," Petyr said, getting closer to the much larger man._

_"Petyr, this is ridiculous-" Cat began, but Brandon held up a gloved hand and cut her off._

_"No, if it is a fight he wants, then it is a fight he'll get. And when he falls, he'll learn to pick his battles more wisely." Brandon replied before leaving both of them. Cat shot daggers at Petyr who simply looked back at her._

_"What do you think you are doing?" Cat said angrily. She was seething as she walked towards the smaller boy._

_"Fighting for you, Cat. You deserve to be with a man who will love you, who already loves you, and will cherish you. I can do that, Cat. I have already fallen for you." Petyr replied calmly. If only he could make her see, he could be everything for her._

_"Love? Petyr, you are a small boy. He will run you down, and he will kill you without a second thought. As for love, you are fifteen years old. What do you know of love?" Cat said exasperated. Petyr inched towards her with his hands out, a sort of invitation to embrace him._

_"Cat, I have loved you since I arrived here almost half my life ago. You deserve better than this,"_

_"And you could give me better? You have no money, you are not from a great house... Petyr, you are essentially nothing." Cat said as she began to walk away from him._

_Petyr watched her go, and a pain blossomed in his chest, spreading outward. No, now he had to win the duel even more than he did before. He had to prove himself to Cat. He had to have her._

_Shortly after that encounter, Petyr was facing Brandon, fully armored, ready to duel. Brandon gave him one more opportunity to stand down, but Petyr declined. Instead, he felt cold metal rip through his warm body. He tasted blood, the overwhelming iron in his mouth was nothing compared to the fire burning itself down from his collarbone to his navel. He collapsed, and the last thing he remembered before everything went black was Cats voice._

_"He's just a boy, stop, don't kill him, please, he's just a boy..."_

Petyr looked in the mirror, tracing the scar he received so many years ago, thinking of that day. What Cat didn't know is that Brandon did kill him; he killed the young, weak boy who believed in the small hero. That boy was long dead. And he is what remained.

He picked up his glass and filled it with mulled wine. He knew he shouldn't drink this much, but what else was there to do in the north? He set down the glass and removed his undone shirt. He then proceeded to remove his boots, his trousers, and his underclothes, leaving him completely nude. Stepping into the hot bath he had prepared, he allowed himself to relax. He couldn't even be bothered to close the door between the bathing room and his chamber.

Sansa opened his chamber door and let herself in. She didn't see him in the room, thinking perhaps he was out. She decided she would wait for him, and she sauntered slowly around his rooms. She noticed the bathing chamber door open slightly, and she could see the steam from a bath. She made her way to the door, peering through the opening. She saw him facing away from her in the tub, wine glass in hand. He appeared to be sleeping, but she knew him better.

"You should bolt your doors. Anyone could come in, especially like this, and kill you," she said, leaning against the wall.

"Perhaps. Not that anyone would mind, not even me. I've done terrible things, and I imagine I've quite the list of enemies." Petyr replied easily. He really shouldn't drink.

"I could kill you now,"

"You could," he agreed. "I had a feeling you would come visit me after the feast." She looked at him a bit perplexed. "That's why I didn't bolt the doors." He finished his cup of wine, and proceeded to fill it up again. He supposed bringing the decanter to the tub with him was a bad idea, but he couldn't bring himself to care much.

"What would make you think I would come visit you?" She asked as she grabbed her own glass and began to fill it.

"That look you gave me, in the hall this evening. Everyone cheered for your half-brother, all except you and I. We both know it was the two of us that won that battle, not Jon. Without us, the Lord Commander and all his men would be dead, and Ramsay would be bathing here tonight. Yet they proclaimed him King in the North. Why not you Queen in the North? It was you, after all, who wrote to me asking for my Knights of the Vale. You want the credit you know you won't receive from him. You're intrigued by what I told you in the Godswood earlier today." Petyr said, only slurring his words a little.

"Why would any of that make you think I would come see you, Lord Baelish." Sansa said, a bit annoyed that even inebriated, Petyr knew her motives.

"I would want the credit as well,"  
Petyr said softly.

"I'm not like you," Sansa started, before being interrupted.

"You're exactly like me. You were young when your dreams became nightmares. Your innocence died at a young age, and you became someone else, you adapted to survive. You are exactly like me."

She walked around the the front of the tub so she could stand before him. She noticed immediately the redness and puffiness of his eyes, either from drinking or crying, but she assumed the former. She also noticed the long pink-white line of an old scar going down his chest and disappearing under the water.

"Ugly, isn't it?" He said, chuckling bitterly. "I trust you've heard the tale, so I'll spare you the gory details."

"Does it hurt?" She asked tentatively.

"What, now? No, it doesn't hurt. Not on the outside." He replied taking another large swig of his drink. So he was drunk, then.

"Can I touch it?" Sansa asked, feeling bolder. Although she supposed in his drunken state, she could do whatever she pleased. He gave her a quick once over and proceeded to nod, looking at her from under furrowed brows. She moved towards him slowly and inched her hand out to connect with his chest. She began at the start, on his collarbone, and moved her fingers all the way down to where his skin disappeared under the water. She noted that he didn't have as much chest hair as she would have thought, and that his build in general was far more lean and toned than she previously believed. He was no knight but there was some definition.

"I'm sorry this happened to you," she murmured. Having scars herself, she felt she could understand.

"I'm not, and you shouldn't be either. If I had not received this scar, I would never have survived this world. I would never have adapted, and then I couldn't have saved you from Joffrey. Some would probably prefer that I hadn't survived, but they are all dead, and I am here. Don't regret, my lady. Adapt." Sansa got the impression that he meant to sound more articulate but the wine was going to his head. His bath water had cooled considerably, so she decided she could at least help him out and into bed.

"I think you've had enough wine tonight, Lord Baelish," she said taking the glass and decanter from him. He did not fight her, and after she placed them on a small table in the room, she turned around to prepare to help him out of the tub.

"Petyr," he said.

"What?"

"Call me Petyr. No need for these formalities, it is only you and I." He slurred. Sansa hesitated before replying.

"Alright Petyr. We need to get you out of this tub and into your bed," she said as she moved to his left side to help support him when he stood up.

"It's your bed, these are your old chambers," he said allowing her to assist him in his drunken state.

"I'm not the naive girl I was when I lived here. These aren't my things anymore,". Removing him from the basin was not as difficult as she had previously believed. No, the hard part was walking his naked body from this room to the next. Her earlier observation was correct; he was far more lean and toned that she would have thought.

"No, you're so much more now. So strong, and beautiful, calculating and ruthless. You are a true player now, Sansa," he said, and she believed him. Like him, she had suffered because of her vision of the world and the way it should be. She had been so wrong, and she had to adapt to survive, much like he had.

Helping him into bed was another ordeal entirely. Because he was inebriated and naked, she had very little help from him. Managing to get all of his parts onto the bed and under the furs was something short of a miracle. She believed he was sleeping so she began to retreat to her own rooms, when she heard him call out her name softly.

She walked back over to his bedside and sat on the edge so she could hear him better.

"What is it?" She asked gently.

"I love you, Sansa Stark. It's all pointless without you," he murmured into his pillow. She looked down at him just as he was falling asleep. He looked so peaceful when he wasn't scheming and conniving and manipulating. She leaned down to place a soft kiss on his cheek before retiring to her chambers.

"Rest easy, Petyr."


	2. Chapter 2

_She screamed as his hand connected with her bare skin. The tears wouldn't stop streaming down her face despite her best efforts to will them away. She knew this assault would last for hours to come._

_"Am I hurting you, my lady?" He whispered in hear ear. Him being so close always made her skin crawl, his breath on her skin and in her nose made her want to vomit. She would not give him the satisfaction of an answer, but when his hand again connected with her bruised and bleeding skin, she could not help but scream out again._

_"We'll just have to make you talk, then." He removed his trousers and kicked them to the corner. She braced herself for the agony she knew she would endure. He crawled upon her, pushing on her back and forcing her chest and head further into the mattress. She shut her eyes and held her breath and waited. A moment later, she felt a stabbing pain between her legs. She screamed again, but didn't say a word to him. She knew he took pleasure in hurting her, taking her when he knew it would be extremely painful. He knew she did not desire him. He beat her as he raped her quite often, as was the case tonight._

_"How does it feel, Lady Bolton, to be such a noble lady , loved by many, saved by none? How does it feel to know no one will help you? They can hear your screams, they don't care," he whispered to her as he grabbed his knife. She knew what he was going to do; he had done if often. He enjoyed dragging his knife against her delicate skin to make shallow cuts. He liked watching her bleed._

_Thankfully, he finished quickly. She suspected her bruised and bleeding body helped get him off faster. She could be grateful for that, at least._

_After he left her, she stayed laying face-down on the bed. The tears never stopped flowing and sometimes she was surprised that she had so many tears to cry._

"Sansa, Sansa wake up, it's just a dream, wake up", she could hear someone speaking to her subconsciously. She felt someone trying to shake her awake.

She opened her eyes and saw Petyr above her. It seemed like she was looking at him from underwater, and she realized there were tears in her eyes. Blinking, she sat up slowly and realized she was also shaking from head to toe. She quickly came to the realization that it was not from the cold. Remembering her dream, Sansa realized that it was just that; a dream.

"Wh-what are you doing in my chamber," Sansa said warily, scooting out from under him.

"I heard you screaming, I came to see if you needed anything," Petyr said, realizing his close proximity made her uncomfortable, and rightfully so. He removed himself from her bed and took a few steps back.

"It was only a dream, I didn't mean to wake you," Sansa replied. She couldn't look at him. She was embarrassed at waking him with her screams. A very small part of her was glad he came to release her from that hell. An even smaller part of her was glad that it was _him_.

"You don't need to be embarrassed, my lady. Everyone has nightmares," he began, trying to console her. He saw her wipe at her eyes before she looked at him and spoke.

"What do you have nightmares about, Petyr? What haunts your dreams?" She looked straight into his eyes as she spoke to him, and he could see the puffiness of her tear-streaked face and how her breathing was still slightly labored.

"Not much, I'll admit. Your uncle Brandon's steel ripping through me, to be sure. Watching the very select few that I care for dying, I suppose." Petyr stated.

"You care for no one but yourself, Lord Baelish," Sansa said. It was hard for her to forget who sold her to the Boltons with the memory of Ramsay still fresh in her mind.

"I care for you," he began but Sansa cut him off.

"No," she said simply.

"If I did not care for you, why would I have risked the lives of my men, the defense of the Vale, to come to your aid?" Petyr asked.

"They're not your men, Petyr. You're only the Lord Protector until Robin comes of age to take over."

" _If_ Robin lives long enough to come of age," Petyr retorted.

"Are you going to kill him the way you killed his mother?" Sansa shot back.

"I won't need to. Poor Robin's health diminishes every day. I doubt he'll make it to adulthood. Which would keep me in the position that I am in, which brings me back to my question."

"Perhaps you mean to sell me to whoever might get you closer to the Throne," Sansa said.

"No, never again Sansa. You belong to yourself," Petyr tried to reassure her. "I told you what I wanted, I didn't push you when you stopped me from kissing you. You will never have to endure what Ramsay put you through again."

"You gave me to Ramsay, you manipulated me into marrying him," Sansa said accusingly.

"I promised you the North, and I promise you I did not know what Ramsay was. I underestimated him, you and I both know that. I know I can never make that right for you." Petyr said with an apologetic tone. She couldn't tell if he meant it or if he was manipulating her again. She decided at this particular moment she didn't care. She remembered him telling her that he loved her the other night. He was obviously drunk, but could he still mean it?

"Whatever the case may be, Lord Baelish, it happened. And I must live with what he did to me everyday of my life," Sansa said with her head bowed.

"As I will have to live with the knowledge that I am the cause of your pain," Petyr murmured. Sansa couldn't understand how a man like Petyr, who caused a number of horrible things to happen to many people, could care so much about the hurt he caused her. She supposed he did love her.

It didn't dawn on Sansa until this moment that Petyr wasn't wearing a shirt. Her adrenaline rush had caused her to gloss over this fact. Due to his lack of clothing, Sansa could see the scar that ran from his collarbone to his navel, and she was reminded that Petyr had demons of his own. Perhaps he uses his lust for power and status as a way to not care about others, as a distraction. And maybe she was a distraction from that.

"Will you stay?" Sansa asked suddenly, looking at him from under wet lashes.

"I suppose I should be leaving soon, before the snows prevent my return to the Eyrie," Petyr said seeming to be slipping his Littlefinger mask on.

"No, _here_ ," Sansa said. "Tonight. Stay with me?"

"I don't know if that's a good idea, sweetling," Petyr replied.

"You told me you loved me, show me. Prove it to me, stay with me." She said bravely.

"Sansa..."

"Petyr."

"You don't know what you're asking of me," Petyr said.

"I just want you to hold me. I want to know what it feels like to be embraced by someone who cares for me, like you claim to. Please?" Sansa crawled from the head of her bed to the end, getting closer to him. Once she reached the end, she tentatively got off the bed and approached him. For every step she advanced, he took a retreating step until his back hit her chamber door. Sansa was upon him in seconds, caressing his bare collarbones and the sparse scattering of black-silver hair on his chest. She heard his breath catch and become slightly labored.

"Sansa..." Petyr said, sounding a bit breathless.

"Yes?" She asked, still toying with him.

"Stop." He said more firmly. She looked at him confused, but removed her hands nonetheless. He simply looked at her for a moment before speaking.

"Goodnight, my lady." He said before opening her chamber door and sneaking out. Sansa was left alone once again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a little shorter than I thought it would be, but I'm already a third or so of the way through the next one if you're still interested. Smut to come, so much smut (:


	3. Chapter 3

Sansa stood in stunned silence. For more than a few moments, her mind stood still. Then, all the sudden, it was buzzing with dozens of questions, one of which seemed to buzz louder than the others; why?

She had felt so confident, something she could only previously pretend to muster for appearances. In that moment, she had felt true confidence, and just as quickly as it had appeared, he disappeared. And as Sansa stood by her chamber door, all she could think of is why he had left.

As she thought, she turned around to lean against the door he leaned against moments ago and proceeded to slide down until she was sitting on the floor. She felt a bit pathetic, perhaps she had misunderstood what he meant by "I love you," she mused. Or perhaps he didn't love her, and it was simply the babblings of a drunk man. Part of her hoped he meant it. She hoped there was one person left in this world who could truly, unconditionally love her, and despite herself she hoped it was him. The more rational, experienced part of her doubted it, but what was left of her innocence couldn't help but hope.

She sat against the door with her eyes closed. So many questions running through her mind with no answers. She didn't know how long she sat there before she decided to get up to go to her bed, although she doubted she would get much sleep that night.

******

Petyr knew he had to leave. He knew he couldn't stay, he knew what would happen if he did. He was always composed, always had the utmost control, but around her, that all disappeared. He had never opened up to anyone, drunk or otherwise.

As he walked back to his chambers he stopped in an alcove. He leaned against the wall with his eyes closed. He pinched the bridge of his nose and contemplated his next move. He knew that Sansa knew how he felt about her, and she had used that to try to make him stay. Perhaps he should leave Winterfell, journey back to the Eyrie before the winter snows trapped him here with her. If that happened, he didn't know how long he could hold his composure around her, how long he could avoid her. He remembered discussing the provisions for Kings Landing, they were expecting a five year winter. How could he avoid her for five years or more?

The answer came immediately; he couldn't. Not unless he left for the Eyrie, or stayed with her in Winterfell. He thought about his options quickly. Leaving could mean his plans coming to fruition some time before the winter ends. Staying didn't prevent that from happening, it just put it off a few years. Although, staying increased his chances of dying from the cold or starvation.

He made his decision then and there, in that alcove, that night. He began walking again, his mind buzzing, but somehow he knew his feet would take him where he needed to go. When he arrived, he held his hand up to knock, but assumed the door would not be bolted. He pushed the handle, his assumptions correct. He saw her lying in the bed, still as undressed as she was when he left. He closed the door and walked towards her. He could see tears on her cheeks in the candlelight. Knowing that she had been crying caused a pain to spread through his chest. He leaned down slightly to brush her tears away. Feeling his hand against her face made her open her eyes, seeing him above her for the second time that night. They simply looked at each other before Sansa spoke.

"What are you doing," she began but Petyr cut her off, placing his finger over her lips.

"I love you. Everything I told you, I meant. I told you I would risk everything for what I want. Without you, what I want is pointless." He said looking her in the eyes the entire time. She could feel him looking into her, in a way that no one ever has. It felt like he was looking into her soul.

"You're staying, then," she began. He nodded, wetting his lips with his tongue. Her eyes followed his movements and settled on his lips. His eyes moved down to hers, then back to her eyes to find she was looking at him. She parted her lips like she was going to speak but Petyr closed the distance between them, hesitating. Inches away from her face, he looked into her eyes, silently asking her permission. She felt her breath hitch before she nodded in affirmation.

Getting the answer he hoped for, his lips connected with hers. Her eyes fluttered shut and all she could do was feel him. A moment later, she felt one of his hands caress her face and the other touching her hip. She felt a sudden fear, memories coming back to her. She tensed up and she felt Petyr stop kissing her, felt his hand leave her hip. She was about to apologize, but she heard Petyr whisper in her ear.

"Shh, it's alright, you don't need to worry, I didn't mean to push you, I'm sorry Sansa..." He said stroking her hair, trying to comfort her.

"N-no, Petyr, stop," She began, looking at him. She saw the look in his eyes and she knew he had the wrong impression. "I'm sorry, please don't leave... I was frightened, for a moment, please stay..." Sansa said, slightly worried that he would leave.

"What can I do?" She heard Petyr whisper to her. Instead of answering him, she looked into his eyes as she leaned up to kiss him tentatively. She slowly placed her hands on his upper arms and she immediately felt him relax and deepen the kiss. She reminded herself that Petyr wasn't Ramsay, over and over she told herself until she believed it. She was losing herself to him, falling into him but she couldn't be bothered to care. Feeling his lips on her was all she could think about.

Petyr sensed that she was at ease now and felt that he could test the waters. He removed his lips from hers and kissed her jaw, chin, and neck before stopping at her collarbone and lightly sucking there. Sansa didn't tense up again, instead giving a soft moan. She felt more than heard Petyrs breath catch and she opened her eyes to find his grey-blue ones staring at her, only to realize in the dim candlelight hat they appeared darker than they usually did, and that he was looking at her like a starving man would look at cooked chicken.

He removed his lips from her collarbone to find that a purplish bruise had formed. As they moved into a sitting position, he smirked pressed his lips to hers again, hearing another small moan come from her. The sensual, passionate way he kissed, nipped, and sucked her made a wetness appear between her legs, and she could feel her small clothes dampen. She flushed in embarrassment which did not escape Petyrs notice.

"What is it, sweetling?" He asked gently between the kisses he placed on her neck.

"I-I'm not sure, I don't know... Is it..." She stuttered. Petyr sat up a bit, the growing concern apparent in his features.

"Is what...?" He began.

"Is it supposed to be..."

"Supposed to be what, Sansa?" He asked confused. She was far too embarrassed to ask him. Instead, she guided one of his hands under her small clothes. He looked even more confused until his fingers reached the peak between her legs and he felt wetness there. Finally understanding what she was asking, he looked at her.

"Yes," he simply said. She looked relieved but her cheeks were still glowing. Petyr did not remove his hand as she had not let his wrist go, so he used his other hand to guide her mouth back to his. With his hand behind her head, he kissed her, and she felt the tip of his tongue touch her bottom lip. Shocked, she parted her lips and his tongue slipped into her mouth to touch hers.

Her head was spinning. She finally released Petyrs wrist to wrap both of her arms around his neck. Petyr removed his hand to wrap his arms around her waist, getting slightly tangled in her long auburn locks. Neither knew how long they sat like that, but both knew it was only the beginning. Sansa broke the kiss and pressed her forehead to his. With labored breathing from both of them, she spoke.

"Stay the night with me," She whispered.

"I don't think you know what you're asking of me," he replied, sounding much like he had earlier that night.

"I do," she began. "I'm not an idiot, Petyr. I know exactly what I'm asking you to do," she said looking into his eyes. "Show me it's not always like that."

For the first time in a very, very long time, Petyr felt like a child. The child he was before dueling Brandon, before falling in love with Cat. He forgot all of it completely, for a moment or two. There was only Sansa. Only this woman taking her biggest fear and putting it in his hands to lay to rest, to show her it could be different. Looking into her winter blue eyes, he saw complete trust. She trusted him to do this, if nothing else. He simply nodded and proceeded to kiss her again, nudging her to lay down.

Once she was on her back, he began undoing the laces that held his trousers up until he felt her hand on his. He looked down at her confused before she spoke.

"Can I?" She asked tentatively gesturing to the laces. He couldn't muster a simple yes, let alone anything clever, so he nodded instead. Sansa sat up on her heels and reached out to take the laces and began undoing them. Watching her made his cock twitch in both anticipation as well as curiosity. He felt himself harden and knew that she could feel it too.

Once the laces were undone, Sansa hesitated before removing his trousers. She had experienced all manner of beatings and pain, but she could not recall one that hurt more than what men had between their legs. A cold chill ran up her spine at the memory of Ramsay and for a moment she didn't know if she could follow through. Petyr must have sensed that, because his hand was on her slightly shaking one and he was talking to her.

"You don't have to do anything you are uncomfortable doing, Sansa. Never again. I will never force you to do anything," he said. Instead of replying with words, Sansa kissed him again, more forcefully this time. She pulled away a moment later and slowly began to remove his trousers. After that, the only thing that clothed him was his own small clothes. Sensing her hesitation, Petyr grabbed the hem of her night shift, silently asking if he could remove it. When she didn't stop him, he slid it slowly up her body and over her head. She immediately covered her chest with her arms, but Petyr could still see the scars and bruises that Ramsay had inflicted on her.

"Seeetling... I am so sorry you had to endure this... To endure him..." Petyr began but Sansa cut him off.

"I would prefer not to talk about my late husband," she said. Petyr looked at her and gently grasped her wrists in an attempt to get her to reveal herself to him. She did not yield, so Petyr tried to coax her.

"You don't have to hide yourself, Sansa," he murmured to her. "You don't need to show anyone, you don't even have to show me. Tell me to stop and I will." Sansa reached up with one of her hands to stroke his scar. _No_ , she thought, _i don't have to. I want to give myself to you, to not be afraid._

Removing her other arm from across her chest, she allowed him to remove her small clothes revealing herself to him completely. She heard his breath catch as he took in her naked body.

"You're more beautiful than I could have ever imagined," he whispered. He could see all of her, all of the bruises and scars. And gods, she was beautiful. He was painfully hard, and he needed her. After removing his own small clothes, he stood bare before her, and he swore he saw her eyes widen slightly.

"W-will it, are you sure it will..." She began stuttering again, suddenly not so sure of giving herself up to him. He smirked at her and got back on the bed, laying practically on top of her.

"Do you trust me?" He asked.

"Yes," _against my better judgement_ , she thought.

He reached between her legs and saw her eyes widen again. He gently ran his finger up her slit to feel exactly how wet she was. He smirked at her again before speaking to her again.

"Yes, my love, it will fit," he chuckled. "But that will come later. There is something I want to give you first."

"And what would that be," she said confused.

"A Lords Kiss," he said murmured close to her ear.

"We've already kissed," she began but stopped when she heard him chuckle again.

"No, A Lords Kiss. It's quite different from this," he said before he pressed his lips to hers, the angle causing his beard to tickle her a bit. After the kiss ended, Sansa spoke up.

"What is a Lords Kiss, then?"

Smirking, Petyr shifted so his mouth was next to her ear again and he whispered, "Will you allow me to show you?" Sansa nodded and Petyr wasted no time in kissing her body as he moved down it. He started at her neck and licked a trail down her chest until he reached her left breast, where he kissed and sucked at her tender nipple until it peaked and hardened before moving to the next. He could hear her moaning softly and looked up to her face to see that her eyes were closed. After giving her right breast equal treatment, he continued downward, stopping at every bruise or scar to give it a kiss before he reached where her stomach and hips met. By this point he was all but between her legs and she unconsciously opened them wider for him.

"Is that the Kiss?" She asked breathlessly. She wondered if all men could make her feel like this, or if it was just him. Then the memory of her aunts wedding night came to mind and she came to the conclusion that it was Petyr.

"No, that was the foreplay, my love. Would you like me to give you a Kiss?" He said in a teasing tone.

"Yes," she said frustrated. She didn't know what was happening, she had never felt like this with a man, certainly not her late husband, but _gods_ she wanted more.

Petyr could see the desperation and frustration in her face. He smirked, looking her in the eyes, and placed his mouth over her wetness. Sansa's eyes widened as she could never imagine anyone kissing anyone else there. But a moment later when Petyr began to suck at that sensitive spot she had discovered once or twice, she began to feel a warmness pool in her stomach. He removed his mouth from that spot and she whimpered a bit but soon found out he wasn't done. He moved down slightly to her opening, to where she was wet, and before he put his mouth back on her, he looked at her the way a predator looks at its prey. She felt herself get impossibly more wet, and then all she could feel was his tongue licking her, all she could hear was the obscene sound of him sucking her juices and his quiet moans.

He knew she wouldn't last long, but he didn't want to stop. He had dreamed of being in this very situation with her for too long, and the reality was so much more than he could have ever imagined. He continued licking and sucking her clit until he felt her thighs tremble slightly. He drank her like he was a dying man, hearing her moan louder and louder egging him on to suck harder, lick quicker, take all that she would give him until finally he felt her reach her peak, heard the way she moaned in ecstasy, saw the way her mouth hung open with the pleasure he just gave her.

Coming down from her orgasm, Sansa glanced between her legs at Petyr, who's head was resting on her thigh. She silently asked if that was the Kiss, and he smiled and nodded.

"Is... Is that how it's supposed to feel?" She asked slightly embarrassed. She knew she was inexperienced in these matters and she knew how she must look to a man like Petyr.

"If done correctly, yes. But that's not even the most pleasure a lover can give you," he began as he crawled back up her body to claim her mouth. She could taste herself on him, but she found she didn't mind the flavor. Sansa was lost in another kiss before she felt something rather hard poke her stomach. She realized it was him and became nervous that he would want her to do to him what he had just done to her. He seemed to read her thoughts, as usual.

"Don't think about it," he said in between the kisses he began placing on her neck.

"But you're..." Sansa said, too embarrassed to finish her statement.

"If it makes you uncomfortable, I can take care of it." He said, sucking her delicate skin to leave more marks. But knowing that he would let her decide if she wanted to do it made her feel brave.

"Could I do it?" She asked boldly. She felt Petyrs chuckle vibrate against her skin.

"Perhaps another night, sweetling. It's late, you should get some sleep," he whispered against her skin. "I will see you when we break our fast in the great hall."

"You're not staying?" She asked. Petyr could hear the disappointment in her voice, so as he sat up, he looked over his shoulder at her.

"Not tonight, my love. There is nothing more that I want now than to stay, but tonight is not the night."

He leaned back down to give her one last kiss, whispering to her one last time that night.

"I love you, Sansa Stark."

Gathering his clothes off the floor, he put them on and smirked at her once more before he left.

"Goodnight, Petyr," she whispered to her now empty chamber. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've written and rewritten this chapter a couple of times, but I'm not sure how I feel about it. I love vulnerable nice Petyr when he's alone with Sansa but I don't know. Let me know what you guys think, and tell me if you wanna know what happens next! (:


	4. Chapter 4

Petyr closed her chamber door behind him and all but fell against it. With his eyes closed, he let out a deep breath he didn't realize he was holding. He was by no means a young man, not young the way Sansa was, but gods she made him feel like he was.

He could hear his heartbeat in his ears and feel it in his cock, reminding him that there were some pressing matters that needed to be taken care of. Opening his eyes, he thought about what had just transpired and what it meant for his future plans. He realized his decision to stay was rash and ill planned, but after kissing her, after tasting her, he knew there was no chance he could make himself leave. Sighing, he pushed himself off her door to walk the short distance to his chambers. Shivering, he also came to the realization that both his chest and feet were bare, and he was beginning to regret not taking Sansa up on her offer of staying. _One day_ , he thought, _I'll never have to leave her bed_.

Reaching his own chamber door, he entered and quickly closed and bolted the door behind him. Wasting no time, he walked to his bed, removing his trousers and small clothes as he went. Immediately he got into the warm bed, covering himself with the warm furs, wrapping his warm hand around his throbbing cock. He imagined Sansa how she was only moments ago, naked and spread before him, her fiery hair sprawled over her pillows, eyes closed in ecstasy as he devoured her like a starving man. That alone could have sent him over the edge, but his imagination didn't stop there. More often than he would admit to anyone, he imagined what it would be like to be in her, not only pleasuring her but also teaching her, allowing her to discover herself. Both gave Petyr great pleasure himself, and that thought is what gave him his relief.

Coming down, Petyrs last thought is of Sansa and how he was going to fix their decaying relationship beyond giving each other physical release. She would be his Queen, and he needed her to trust him, but those plans could wait for morning. That night he dreamt of laying with her again, and for the first time in as long as he could remember, he felt himself genuinely smile as he fell asleep.

*******

After he left her, Sansa laid in her bed contemplating what had occurred. She had told herself that she was strong, that she wouldn't succumb to his advances, but once she felt his lips on her skin she knew she was wrong.

Somewhere deep inside her, she knew that Petyr didn't know what kind of a monster Ramsay was. After briefly experiencing what a true lover could be and after hearing his sober declarations of love for her, she couldn't help but believe him; she saw no malice or ill will in his eyes. She didn't trust him, for only a fool would trust Littlefinger. Sansa saw a difference in him though. There was a clear separation between Petyr and Littlefinger. Petyr cared for her, she was sure. Littlefinger, on the other hand, seemed to care for no one but himself. If he could just be Petyr with her, she could see a possible future with him. She knew Jon would never force her to marry for any reason, nor would he allow anyone else to, leaving her to choose her next husband if she wanted another.

Her encounter did leave her curious though. Before now, she was afraid of being touched by another even in the most platonic ways. But now, knowing the kind of pleasure she could experience, she decided she could attempt to be more open to being touched, on her own terms at any rate. Petyr had given her the most intense pleasure she had ever experienced, but instead of satisfying her, it awakened a sort of hunger in her. She was still bare under her furs, and with her eyes closed, her hand snaked down her body, stopping between her legs. She imagined that Petyrs mouth was on her again, and as her fingers vigorously rubbed herself she felt that warm sensation pooling in her stomach again. Not long after, she felt herself reach her climax, although she noticed it wasn't nearly as intense. Still, it was enough to tire her enough for sleep to come to her.

She dreamt of Petyr walking through a sunny meadow, his hand linked with hers, gently pulling her along. She dreamt that suddenly they were falling into the tall grass and landing in a lavish, luxurious bed. She saw them completely naked, her hair splayed over silk pillows, Petyrs body covering her own. She felt his lips on her skin, she heard his decelerations of love, telling her how beautiful she was and how much he wanted her. She saw herself smile and heard herself moan. She knew this was the most peaceful she had felt in far too long, even if it was just a dream. Unbeknownst to herself, she smiled at the vision in her dream.

*******

Awaking the next morning, Petyr was blinded by sunlight reflecting off the newfallen snow. _There was a break in the storms then_ , he though, covering his eyes with his hand. Recalling what happened the previous night, he remembered he couldn't leave; not when he could have everything he wanted. First, he would get Sansa and the rest would follow.

As he laid in bed he knew this was just the beginning. He knew she was tentative and nervous, as he would expect from someone who had endured what she had, but he knew he could nudge her out of her shell. All of this, he was certain of. What he wasn't so sure of was how far Sansa would be willing to follow him. Would this be a secret tryst, would it be a courtship, would they marry? Petyr couldn't be sure. The ideal situation in his mind would be to court Sansa into marriage, put his child in her, and seal his connection to her permanently. From there his plans could come to fruition at any point and the world would be theirs.

Petyr decided that if the sun had risen, then it was time for him to as well. Still thinking on the events of last night, he realized he couldn't keep leaving her so abruptly. Not only was it not fair to her, getting comfortable with him in such a way to just be left alone moments later, but he also didn't know if he had the willpower to do so. What man in their right mind would leave a beautiful, naked, willing woman to return to his own chambers? Although, he justified his leaving by reminding himself that perhaps Sansa isn't so willing. Perhaps she just gets caught up in the moment. He knows he is not a good man, and he has done a great many horrible things, but raping Sansa will never be one of them. Taking advantage of her will never be something he does. He had caused too much pain to come to her already.

Shaking off those negative thoughts, Petyr began dressing for the day, starting with freshly starched small clothes all the way to his frock coat, cloak, and mockingbird pin. Looking at his reflection, the pin specifically, he decided he would rather like to see Sansa wearing a mockingbird pin of her own. _In time_ , he mused. He left his chambers, steeling himself as he sauntered to the great hall to break his fast. Plotting and scheming as he made his way to the hall, he was brought out of his thoughts when he heard his name being called out. Turning around, he saw none other than Sansa herself making her way hurriedly toward him.

"Good morning, my lady," he began as she got closer.

"Petyr," she said slightly out of breath. He loved hearing his name fall from her breathless lips. "Good morning."

"Is there something you need, my lady?" He asked, trying to sound as neutral as possible. She simply looked at him, lips parted for a moment before she collected herself and spoke.

"Would you mind escorting me to the hall," she said more than asked, already closing the distance between them and linking her arm with his.

"Of course," he replied with a smirk. They made their way to the hall in relative silence until Petyr spoke up.

"It's curious, my lady, I haven't seen Lady Brienne escorting you around the castle," he said, his silent question open-ended.

"I have asked her to only escort me when I need it. This is my home, I feel safe enough walking the halls on my own," she replied.

"Am I to assume she was not pleased by this?"

"Yes. She was very adamant that she swore an oath to my mother to protect me, but I reminded her that she no longer serves my mother, she serves me. I assured her that I would be especially careful in her absence, but she's been preoccupied with being in both Jon's small council and war council." Sansa explained. He understood, being on the small council of the king in the North himself. The White Wolf didn't trust him any more than anyone else did, but he valued Petyr's advice and council.

"She's very noble, your Lady Brienne," Petyr said with a smirk, and Sansa only hummed in agreement. Nearing the entrance to the hall, Petyr felt his arm being jerked the opposite way. Suddenly they were in an alcove practically chest-to-chest, face-to-face. Petyr opened his mouth to speak, but Sansa cut him off.

"I know Jon would never force me to marry again, but the others in his council would. You have given me reason to distrust you, but you're on the council. I've heard rumors that Lord Royce has been proposing a marriage between myself and Robin to secure the Vale to our cause. If this is true, I need you to put an end to it. I don't care how. Give me reason to trust you, Lord Baelish. You told me you love me, now prove it." She said, just above a whisper, before placing her lips upon his. She knew she was using his affection for her against him, but she needed him on her side. And, should he prove himself worthy, perhaps she would marry him. She certainly had reason to ensure his prolonged stay at the very least after last night.

Breaking the kiss, Petyrs eyes remained closed for a moment. Taking a deep breath, he responded to her.

"I will do what I can, but I make no promises that I can convince the small council or the King."

"Then I will rest assured that if you can't, we will shortly hear news of poor Sweet Robin's untimely demise. He is a sickly boy, after all." Sansa murmured, running her hands up and down Petyrs chest, her eyes cast down at her hands.

"Of course," Petyr replied. _That_ was something he could do. He held no affection for the boy, and his death would secure his position and Lord Protector of the Vale until a new heir came of age. Hearing Sansa plot her cousins death sounded strange to him, though, recalling the conversation they had earlier the previous night when Sansa accused him of planning to end Robins life.

Sansa looked up and into his eyes and smiled. They had a mutual understanding, then. Petyr smirked at her and gestured for them to leave the alcove.

"Shall we?" He asked, holding out his arm for her to link hers with. After doing so, the pair walked the rest of the short distance to the hall. All eyes were on them as they entered together, and Petyr couldn't help but smirk. How he loved their little conversations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually had a dream about this last night after posting the last chapter so I wrote this when i woke up this morning. It usually takes me a couple of days to write, so I'm pretty impressed with this. I hope you guys like it! (:


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay; this chapter is pretty long, which is why it took longer than I thought it would. I have a vague idea where this story is going to go, so if there is anything you guys would want to see, feel free to suggest! But I hope you enjoy this chapter, it might be a hot minute before the next one is up (:

Petyr walked Sansa into the hall and gave a small bow as they parted. He watched her take her place at the high table, favoring his own usual chair in the corner where he could scrutinize the rest of the hall without raising suspicion. He noticed several pairs of eyes on him, eyes belonging to Yohn Royce, Lady Brienne, Lady Mormont, and King Jon himself. He knew the reason Lord Royce and Lady Brienne were scowling at him; they didn't trust him with Sansa. Glancing over at Lady Mormont, he noticed her look was more calculating than anything, and King Jon seemed like he was deep in thought and just happened to be looking his way.

He looked back towards Royce and Brienne, who were still glaring at him, raised his glass to them and smirked. Petyr knew neither of them were stupid, he could assume they knew what was going on between Sansa and himself. Royce had his opinions, but he wasn't a threat as long as Robin was the Lord of the Vale and Petyr was the Lord Paramount. Brienne, though, Petyr wasn't so sure of. She was fiercely protective of Sansa and would lay down her life to defend her. He suspected his best move was to avoid her wrath as much as possible.

Shifting his eyes from the Lady Knight to Sansa, he found that her eyes were already on him. Instead of smirking, he gave a small smile and a small raise of his glass. She retuned his gesture, which did not go unnoticed by Brienne or Jon. The White Wolf paid a good deal of attention to his sister and not much escaped his notice where she was concerned. Petyr supposed this was a good thing, showing concern for someone you care about. This could also be a benefit to him, if Jon was a piece he could move using Sansa, or a piece they could move together.

The meal was a rather dull affair, beginning and ending without much commotion. He noticed Sansa had left early, but he remained, observing the rest of the inhabitants, being one of the last to leave himself. As he was leaving, he heard his name being called out for the second time that morning.

"Lord Baelish," he heard. Turning around, he was unsurprised to find it was Lady Brienne who had called out to him.

"Lady Brienne," he responded.

"Just Brienne, my Lord."

"Well, Brienne, is there something I can do for you?" He asked, looking up at her. She certainly was a large woman.

"What are your intentions with Lady Sansa?" She asked rather bluntly. Smirking at her right to the point attitude, he answered.

"My interest in Sansa is pure, I can assure you. I know there is no way to make up for the wrongs that I have caused to come to her, but if there is anything I can do to ease her hurt, I will." He replied smoothly.

"I've heard whispers that you somehow plan to marry her," she continued.

"I believe that ship has sailed my lady, unfortunately. After her engagement to Joffery ended, Cersei Lannister was unsure of what to do with Sansa. She knew she wanted to keep her close, and I offered to wed Sansa myself to keep her in the Capital. The Queen, however, decided that a man of my low birth wasn't suitable for even the disgraced daughter of a traitor. If I wasn't good enough for Lady Sansa then, then I hold little hope that she will deem me good enough now." He told her. It wasn't all a lie, he had propositioned Cersei concerning Sansa. However, he doubted very much that Sansa would reject him if he propositioned her himself. Brienne looked down at him through squinted, calculating eyes. She simply gave a small nod before speaking.

"Don't get too close to her. She might believe she can trust you but I know men like you, and I don't trust you with her."

"I believe that would be up to Sansa to decide," Petyr replied. Brienne the Beauty didn't frighten him despite the fact that she could split him in half with little effort. She simply scowled at him, gave a small bow, and was on her way.

Petyr scowled at her back as she walked away. He expected some resistance from those within the castle concerning his interest in Sansa, but it still irritated him that any of them had the audacity to approach him about it. None of them understood, Sansa was already his, he just needed some time to solidify their bond.

Shaking it off, Petyr continued walking to his chambers. He had more pressing matters to attend to today, he couldn't focus on this unneeded distraction.

*******

Sansa had left the great hall before Petyr. She felt... Well, she wasn't sure how she felt. Embarrassed at what she'd done the previous night? This confused her, none of these people knew what had transpired, she had no reason to be embarrassed. Confused? What did last night mean, did it mean anything at all? Ashamed? She knew her parents would be disappointed in her. Or was it lust? Did she crave him now? She found it difficult to keep her eyes off of him during her meal, and she felt an urge to leave the hall as quickly as possible. She was so unsure of how to feel.

Exiting the hall, Sansa planned to go back to her chamber but found herself passing her rooms and stopping in front of his. She raised her hand to knock but quickly lowered her arm, remembering that Petyr was most likely still breaking his fast. Shaking her head, she opened the door and entered his chambers. She walked around, looking around for a bit before looking towards his bed. It was still disheveled from him sleeping in it the previous night. The pillows and furs were extremely mussed, and it amused Sansa that Petyr was seemingly so active in his sleep. She walked over to the bed and ran her fingers over the sheets and pillows, imagining what he looked like when he slept. She imagined he looked peaceful in sleep, and this thought brought a small smile to her face. _What is happening to me_ , she thought. She wasn't supposed to feel this way for him, he sold her to the most abusive person she had ever met. But she found she couldn't help it, he just made her feel complete, made her forget all of the pain shed endured.

She took off her outer cloak, tossing it on a nearby chair, proceeding to sit on his bed. She didn't know how long he would be, so she decided to make herself comfortable. Removing her shoes and undoing the many laces of her dress, she shrugged out of the heavy fabric and tossed it unceremoniously on the cold stone floor. She was in nothing but her day shift and small clothes, and despite the cold, she peeled those layers off as well, one by one, leaving her completely nude in his bed. Smiling at herself, she pulled the furs over herself and waited for him to finish his morning meal.

*******

Petyr was fast approaching his chambers, and considered stopping at Sansa's for a moment. He quickly dismissed this thought as it could be considered an inappropriate visit by anyone in the castle. Eyeing her chamber door as he passed, he thought of the previous night once again. Gods, she was becoming quite a distraction.

Reaching his own chamber and opening the door, he removed the mockingbird pin from his cloak and let the purple silk fall from his shoulder. He was about to walk into his solar when he glanced at his bed and saw a very naked Sansa occupying it. Cocking his eyebrow at her, she smiled in return.

"You took longer than I expected," she said, looking at him from across the room.

"I wasn't aware I would have a visitor waiting for me. My apologies, my lady." He replied smoothly, giving a small, mocking bow.

"I believe you've kept me waiting long enough, Lord Baelish," she said just above a whisper, and he almost didn't hear her. He moved towards her slowly.

"I am sorry to disappoint, but there is important business that needs attending," he said, still walking towards her. Sitting up in the bed, Sansa used the furs to cover her bare chest.

"And what is more important than the Kings sister, might I ask?"

"You are the Queen I serve, my love. Your half brother might be the King the North chose, but I choose to be ruled by you," he said. His evading her question did not escape her notice.

"I'm flattered, Lord Baelish, but that is not what I asked you." She said, looking up at him as he continued to get closer. Smirking as he reached the end of the bed, he sat down before replying.

"As I have said, I've declared for house Stark for all to see. I need to put the right pieces in the right places to ensure my plans will come to fruition," he said as he crawled slowly up the bed to her. Instead of saying anything, Sansa ran her hands up and down his very clothed chest when he finally reached her. She toyed with the laces, eyeing him from under her lashes, silently asking permission to undo them. Raising his eyebrow at her for the second time, he nodded. She quickly had all the laces undone and was sliding his frock coat off when she felt his hand touch her cheek. Stunned momentarily, she watched him as he stroked her skin gently.

"What is it that you want from me, Sansa," he murmured, his eyes on her lips.

"Can I tell you a secret?" She whispered. "I don't know. I wanted to hate you, I thought it would be easy. If I could hate you, then I could play the game my own way. But I can't. I don't hate you. I want you. I feel so conflicted, I know you're the last person I should trust. But here I am, naked, in your bed, playing the game. And all I know is I want you, in the end. Nothing else seems to matter," she whispered to him, his eyes on her lips the entire time, taking in her words.

"Your lady knight spoke to me this morning," Petyr began, still not looking her in the eyes, instead toying with her auburn locks.

"What did she say?"

"She told me to stay away from you, that she didn't trust me with you." He said smirking a bit. It was so amusing to him, that anyone thought they could tell him what he could and couldn't do.

"And?" She asked. "Are you going to stay away from me?"

"No," he began, bringing his gaze from her full lips to her winter blue eyes. "No, I don't think so. Not after last night. I like to believe that I have impeccable self-control, I owned dozens of women who made weaker men crumble, but I can't fool myself into believing that I could stay away from you. Not unless you asked me to," he stated. She could see only truth in his grey-green eyes.

"Good," she whispered, before placing her lips over his in a gentle kiss. He decided that even if it was just this moment, he would let go. His undershirt was removed, followed by his trousers and small clothes, leaving him just as bare as she was. He saw her eyes roam his naked body, seemingly drinking in his form. He leaned back, allowing her to feast her eyes. Sansa looked up at him with a small smile on her lips.

"Can I... Would you mind if i..." She stammered. It always amused him that after all she had been through, she was still embarrassed to ask him if she could touch him. Although, he supposed it stemmed from the fact that no one ever asked her if it was alright to touch her.

"Yes, sweetling. Whatever you're comfortable with. I won't stop you," he said in what he hoped was a soothing tone. He tried to keep his voice even but the thought that his fantasy could become a reality excited him. Gods he felt like a child.

Sansa bit her lip and tentatively ran her fingers from his neck to collarbone, down to the sparse scattering of hair on his chest. She found that she liked that he was almost bare. She then moved to the side, running her fingernails over one of his nipples, and hearing the hiss that came from his lips made her smile and move to the other one. Once she was done teasing him there, she moved downward, just running her fingertips over his skin, until she reached his hips.

He watched her think about what she wanted to do next, and before he could guess what she would do, her hand was around his half hard cock. He gasped and his eyes widened a bit, but she didn't move. She simply held him for a moment, before looking to him for guidance. He understood what she was asking, and through the lust-induced fog in his mind, he was able to wrap a hand around her wrist to demonstrate how to stroke him. After two or three downward strokes, Petyr felt that she could do it on her own, so he released her wrist. She was a quick learner and soon he was on his back, eyes closed and lowly moaning. Watching his reactions to her ministrations, she decided she liked him like this, liked the power it gave her.

"There is something else I would like to try," she murmured as she gripped him a bit tighter. This elicited a deeper moan from Petyr who barely managed to speak through the pleasure she was giving him.

"I won't stop you," he all but moaned out. She enjoyed watching his chest rapidly rise and fall and liked the breathless way he spoke. Gaining the permission she was after, she shifted herself so that she was on all fours over the lower half of his body. Taking a deep breath and closing her eyes, she lowered her head until the tip of his cock touched her lips. Hesitating for a moment, she opened her eyes and tentatively licked the tip of him. Immediately she tasted something wet and salty, but she found that she didn't mind the taste. It was just Petyr. After her first taste, she felt more comfortable licking, starting at the tip and trailing downwards.

"Fuck," he said, followed by a string of moans. Sansa had no idea she could feel so _powerful_ by just touching someone. It made her want to hear him moan more. Feeling brave, she wrapped her lips around the tip of him and gave a gentle suck. He began swearing and moaning more, and taking that as a good sign, Sansa repeated the action.

Feeling her warm, soft lips around him was so much better than he could have ever imagined. He didn't expect to last very long if she continued like this. She must have known how well she was doing, for not long after, she began stroking him again while she sucked on the tip of his cock. He began panting, he could feel himself getting closer to his climax when she removed her mouth from him and began to fondle him. Moaning deep in his throat, he felt euphoria wash over him.

Sansa watched as he came, watched how his face became relaxed, how his hands unclenched and how streams of warm white liquid spurted from him, pooling on his stomach and the top of her hand. When he opened his eyes, he saw her examining her hand, seemingly transfixed. This must be the first time she had ever seen a man come, then. Something about that pleased him immensely.

She watched as his rapid breathing evened out. She moved up his body to rest her head on his chest, her arm over his waist, her legs tangled with his. She felt him run his hand through her hair before resting on her arm. He chuckled lightly and she looked up at him.

"And what exactly is so funny?"

"What are we doing, sweetling. What game are you playing?" He asked, still laughing.

"Perhaps I'm not playing any game. It could be that I just want you, even if I shouldn't." She answered.

"Do you?" He asked a moment later.

"I'm not sure. Possibly. Probably. Yes," she said. "I know that I shouldn't, that I can't trust you, but I want you all the same."

"You know I am already yours,"

"I do. I suppose it would be fair to say I am already yours as well," she replied.

"Good," he said, before nudging her to lay on her side. She looked at him confused but did as he asked. A moment later, she felt his chest against her back, his legs against hers. She felt his arm rest over her waist, pulling her closer. She heard him take a deep breath felt him kiss the back of her head. She was just about to close her eyes and fall asleep when she heard him tiredly whisper to her.

"I love you," he said as he fell asleep.

"I love you too," she whispered back, but she knew he didn't hear her. She laced her fingers through his and pulled their hands to her lips, placing a gentle kiss on his knuckles.

"I love you too,"


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have had a very bad case of writers block, but I finally found enough inspiration to continue this story. Thank you to those who have read and given kudos and commented, your support and criticism is always appreciated. As always, if you like this chapter, please let me know and also let me know if I should continue. Thank you all (:

Warmth. Lavender. Something incredibly soft. Deep, even breathing. These were the first sensations Petyr experienced before he even opened his eyes. Snuggling closer to the source of the sensual assault, he felt hair tickle his nose as he again inhaled the scent of lavender. After taking another deep breath, his eyes fluttered open, drowning in an auburn sea. The early morning sunlight shining in through the window of her chambers created a light halo effect around her naked, half-covered body. Shifting his weight to lean on his forearm, he allowed his eyes to roam her body, over all of her supple curves, committing it all to memory as if this could be his last opportunity to see her like this.

As he was admiring her body, she shifted. She hadn't yet opened her eyes, but she could feel his on her. She allowed herself another moment of rest before she opened her eyes and looked over her shoulder at him.

"You stayed through the whole night, then," she said, the sleepiness apparent in her raspy voice. This wasn't a normal occurrence for her and she wasn't quite sure how she should proceed. Instead of teasing her for stating the obvious, he reached out to gently run the tips of his fingers down her arm.

"I did. I thought about leaving some hours ago, but you were resting on my arm and I didn't want to wake you," he replied, watching his movements along her arm rather than look her in the eyes.

"I... I'm glad you stayed," she said with an uneven voice and downcast eyes.

"I'll stay as long as you'll have me," he murmured, leaning forward to press his lips to her shoulder. She sighed at the sensation. It came as a shock that so soon after being so mistreated by her late husband that she could bare to be touched in such an intimate manner. Somehow she knew Petyr as Petyr wouldn't hurt her. This knowledge, however, did not gain him her trust back so easily, as she knew Petyr as Littlefinger would do whatever it took to put himself on the Iron Throne.

He did make her _feel_ , though. She felt a sense of security with him, not necessarily safety, but something akin to it. At least she felt something other than bone chilling fear any time she heard footsteps approaching her chambers. She was brought out of her musings when she felt his hand leave her and the shifting weight of the bed. Looking up, she saw Petyr was getting up to gather his clothes.

"What are you doing?" She asked, quirking her brow in confusion.

"It's early. I should get back to my chambers before the castle awakes," he replied with his back to her, slipping on his small clothes and undershirt.

"Right... Of course, it would be inappropriate if someone saw you leaving my chambers this early..." Sansa replied, fiddling with the bedsheets as a distraction. Sighing, Petyr walked back to her and kneeled by her bedside, rubbing her covered thigh.

"There is still talk among the council members about marrying you off. His Grace has been reluctant to even consider it, but Lord Royce and some of the Northern houses have been persuading him to marry you off in exchange for ships or men or loyalty." He murmured. He felt Sansa tense beneath his fingers, but he did not raise his eyes to meet hers.

"And who do they wish to marry me to?" She asked in a tense tone. Sighing again, Petyr answered her.

"There has been talk of Daenerys Targaryen sailing with thousands of ships across the Narrow Sea. It is believed that she means to take the Iron Throne. There has also been word that Tyrion Lannister has been advising her, as a Hand of the Queen, so to speak. The council has been persuading the King to wait for the Targaryen girl to land in Westeros and marry you to the Imp once again to solidify an alliance between the North and the Dragon Queen." Petyr explained. He didn't dare look her in the eye for fear of what he might see. He knew the Imp had treated Sansa with kindness and care. He also knew that Sansa held no love for the man, but given the chance to marry a man she could trust, Petyr feared for the future of his and Sansa's relations.

"Jon would never force me to marry," Sansa began, but stopped when she heard a deep sigh come from Petyr. "Would he?"

Still refusing to look at her, he responded. "Not long ago, I have no doubt that he wouldn't. He has been under immense pressure, however, from the other council members to encourage you to go along. I believe his resolve is wearing thin with the knowledge that we need her army and fleet on our side" he responded, toying with a small frey in the furs. He then felt warm fingers slide under his chin, tilting his head upwards. Finally gazing up at her, what he saw caused a pain to spread through his chest. There were unshed tears in her eyes, and he could see that she was afraid, genuinely and understandably so.

"But you can prevent that from happening... You can stop this, can't you?" She asked, her eyes pleading. For the first time in quite a while Petyr felt remorse. He had promised Sansa that he would help her, but after being present at the last few small council meetings, he wasn't so sure that he could follow through on those promises. Any other person, and it wouldn't bother him in the slightest. But this wasn't just any other person, this was Sansa. His Sansa. He let go of the furs to take her hands in his.

"I will do what I can," he started, "but I will never lie to you again. My influence is small in the Kings council".

"Perhaps if you spoke with Jon away from the other members, or if I spoke with him..."  
Sansa began, looking around the room. Petyr squeezed her hand and she looked at him with worried eyes.

"My love..." he started, getting her attention. "I will do what I can."

*******

Later that morning when Petyr left her, he returned to his own chambers to prepare for the day. He continued to think on what she had said, the worry in her eyes, as he pulled on a fresh undershirt and buttoned up a clean doublet. He too was worried that the future of his plans for Sansa would be snuffed out before they even really began.

Sighing, Petyr walked across the chamber to the long mirror beside his bed. He began to mold his hair back to perfection, although he didn't mind the sex-mussed look. He would give up all his finery to have her delicate fingers run through his hair every night.

Finished and generally pleased with his appearance, he slipped into the role of Littlefinger and proceeded to pin his mockingbird over his heart. Fingering the silver, he continued to speculate how to converse with the King in a way that best benefitted him. Giving his reflection one last once-over, he sauntered to the door and began his journey to the King's solar to request a private audience with him.

As he trekked, he contemplated his earlier conversation with Sansa. She had been worried, perhaps overly so. Although Petyr could agree that he did not wish for her to leave Winterfell, especially not since the snows would soon trap him here. He rather enjoyed the thought of her warming his bed on cold winter nights, taking her any which way he desired, longing to give her release over and over again. Smirking at the stirring in is groin, he approached the door to the solar. After knocking and being invited in, he cleared his throat.

"I wonder, Your Grace, if I could have a moment of your time," he began, surveying the room full of men.

"What is it, Lord Baelish?" Jon asked rather tiredly.

"Could we speak privately, Your Grace?"

Jon eyed him for a moment before looking at the rest of the men out of the corner of his eye. Giving a curt nod, the others bowed their heads and retreated.

"What is it, Baelish. I don't have all day," Jon stated.

"It's your sister," Petyr began. "She knows of your plans to marry her to Lord Tyrion".

Jon sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose, and looked up at his councilor.

"And how, might I ask, did she come across this information?" Jon asked, giving Petyr a knowing look. Smirking, he answered.

"I told her," Petyr stated.

"Can I ask why?"

"She approached me the other day, telling me she heard rumors that Lord Royce was proposing a marriage between her and Lord Robin. She wished to know the validity of these rumors." Petyr responded evenly. He knew the King would be annoyed that Petyr outed him, but his love for his sister would outweigh his annoyance.

"What did you come here to speak with me about, my Lord," Jon asked as he turned to grab a decanter of warmed wine. Petyr could tell from the time in his voice that the King knew what Petyr was asking for.

"Before I left Lady Sansa this morning, she was very adamant that I put a stop to this arranged marriage. She couldn't believe that you, her brother, would force her to remarry. I am simply asking for you to reconsider your position and consider an alternative route to acquiring an alliance with the Dragon Queen, Your Grace." He answered smoothly. He gave just enough to lure the White Wolf into his hand.

"Before you left her..." Jon muttered. "So I suppose it is you that wishes to wed her instead of the Imp. Is that what you're saying, my Lord? That you wish to marry Sansa?"

Petyr considered how to respond. "Yes, Your Grace. I will admit, this is not the first time I have asked for your sisters hand. But consider this; if you agree to marry Sansa to the Imp against her will, she might never forgive you. You will lose the only family you have left in this world. There are other ways to acquire that which you seek without losing her." Petyr replied.

Jon stood over the war councils strategy table with his brows knit together. He knew he needed the Targaryen girls army and navy. But perhaps Baelish was right, perhaps there was another way.

"I will take your words into consideration, Baelish. What is it that you propose we do instead?" Jon asked with his ever present raspy tone. 

Smirking, Petyr answered.

"I would propose a marriage between yourself and the Dragon Queen, Your Grace".


	7. Chapter 7

Sansa remained laying in her bed for some time after Petyr had left. She was certain it was late enough that she had missed the morning meal, and she was sure if she remained in bed for much longer, she would also miss the next. Sighing, she left the warmth of her sheets, feeling the furs slide off her naked and exposed body. The warmth was instantly replaced with the chill of the outside air, and goosebumps appeared rapidly over her skin.

As she walked to her wardrobe, she thought on what Petyr had said.

_"I will do what I can..."_

What did that mean for her? He had said his influence was small in this council, but surely, Jon cared enough about Petyr's opinions to give him a position on his small council to begin with? The thought that Petyr had little power here both excited and terrified her. She might finally have the upper hand with him, but at what cost?

Finding clean small clothes and a clean shift, she proceeded to pull the clothing onto her chilled body. As she found the dress she would wear that day, she decided she would have to speak to Jon on her own, away from the council members and the guests in the castle. Lacing herself up, she surmised that she would have to be her own source of strength. She hadn't forgotten who Petyr was, what he had done, or what she assumed he would do in the name of acquiring power. Steeling herself, she slipped her feet into her boots, very much desiring their warmth, and proceeded to leave her chambers.

As she made her way down to the Great Hall, she saw Brienne approaching her. It was then that Sansa realized she hadn't seen the woman-knight in nearly two days.

"Lady Sansa, I was just coming to see if you were alright. I noticed you were absent this morning." Brienne stated. She had the ever present look of concern on her face.

"I'm fine, I didn't rest much last night," Sansa said. "Thank you for your concern".

Brienne looked at her through squinted eyes, trying to identify if she should pursue a conversation or if she should just nod and escort the Lady to the dining hall. She decided on the latter, dropping the conversation and striking up a new one.

"How have you been feeling, my Lady? If I might ask," Brienne asked cautiously. Sansa turned to look at her, and with a quirked brow she replied.

"I feel fine, Brienne. What is it you really want to ask?" Sansa asked. She had a feeling she knew what Brienne was skirting around. Brienne took a moment before responding.

"I have noticed the amount of time you've been spending with Littlefinger lately, my Lady. The time you spend alone with him," Brienne finished with a sideways glance.

"Lord Baelish answered my call for help, he sent the entirety of the Vales army to defeat the Boltons and help us reclaim Winterfell. He rescued me from Kings Landing and was a real friend to me. Is it so odd for me to spend time with a friend?" Sansa replied, not missing a beat. She had expected this conversation from someone for some time now.

"He is also the reason you were married to the Bolton boy in the first place," Brienne countered. Sansa smirked for a moment, then stopped and looked up at Brienne. 

"What is it you honestly wish to know?"

Sighing and accepting defeat, she asked. "What is going on between the two of you, really?"

"He wants to give me the North, like he promised me. Before Ramsay, before the Vale, even before he rescued me from Kings Landing. He thinks that I should have gotten more recognition for wining the battle." Sansa replied smoothly. She wasn't lying; Petyr did want her to have the North. But she didn't think Brienne needed to know everything about Petyr's motives.

Brienne gave her a calculating look but accepted her response nonetheless. After only a few more steps, Brienne spoke once again.

"I swore to your mother that I would protect you, which I will do to the best of my ability. I will lay down my life for yours. But I need you to assure me that you won't put yourself in any questionable situations in my absence," That made Sansa stop dead in her tracks. Hearing that Brienne would keep her safe in her mothers absence tugged at her heartstrings.

"I promise, Brienne. I will make sure that I am cautious in all situations." She replied, once again making her way to the Great Hall. She hoped her words put Brienne at ease, for she meant them. She was all too aware of how this world worked, and she would never be a victim again.

Brienne nodded, and they made their way to the Great Hall in comfortable silence.

********

Petyr was making his way to the Great Hall for the midday meal when he saw Sansa and her hulking body guard also making their way. Smirking, Petyr changed his direction and soon was side-by-side with his new lover. Sliding her arm into his crooked elbow, he spoke.

"Good afternoon, Lady Sansa, Lady Brienne. I noticed you weren't at this mornings meal, my Lady," he said. Smiling, Sansa replied.

"I didn't sleep very well last night, I'm afraid. I was exhausted." Petyr smirked at both her response and the look of understanding that came across the she-knights face.

"I'm very sorry to hear that, my Lady. Perhaps you're working yourself too hard late at night?" Petyr asked, smirk still present. Giving another small smile, Sansa responded.

"I suppose I am, Lord Baelish. I must speak with my handmaiden though, there seems to be something rather hard in my mattress that pokes into my sides." Petyr's smirk only widened and he noticed Brienne going red in the face just as quickly as her hand rested on her sword.

Finally reaching the Great Hall, Petyr slowed to a stop before dropping Sansa's arm and bidding both women farewell before parting ways with them. As Sansa stepped into the hall, she immediately noticed Jon's eyes shifting between her and Petyr. Furrowing her brows, she made her way to the high table to take her seat and have her meal.

"You weren't at the morning meal," Jon said, looking at his plate now.

"I slept in quite late. I didn't sleep well last night." She replied.

"I have something that I need to speak with you about," he said. "It's important."

"What is it?" She asked, the concern clear in her tone.

"It's about a marriage that has been proposed. I value your opinion, and want to know what you think of it," he replied gruffly.

"I wanted to speak to you about a marriage as well. Or, lack thereof, I suppose." Jon nodded and drained the remainder of his ale before he continued.

"I have been informed that you know of the possible marriage between yourself and your estranged husband. However, it was also implied that this would displease you greatly, so a new marriage arrangement has been proposed."

"Between whom?" Sansa asked with baited breath.

"Myself and Daenerys Targaryen."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not the proposal Sansa was expecting to hear about ;)
> 
> I know this chapter was kind of short, and that it took FOREVER to update, but unfortunately life gets in the way :/ also, my sister recently had my nephew, and I've had terrible writers block. But, here it is! As always, feel free to comment about things you like or don't like. I always appreciate the feedback (:


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

     That was certainly not the proposal Sansa was expecting. She knew the confusion and shock must have been apparent on her face because once her vision cleared and her eyes focused once again, she saw Jon pour himself another cup of ale while he nodded. A few moments passed between them, neither saying a word. Finally, Jon decided to elaborate.  
     “Baelish came to me this morning in an attempt to change the Small Council’s plans to potentially remarry you to Lord Tyrion as a means to form an alliance. However, Lord Bealish made it very clear that doing so would greatly upset you. You’re my last living relative, Sansa. You’re my sister. I don’t want to upset you. Before I accept any sort of proposal, I wanted to speak to you first. I value what you think.” He said. Sansa took her seat at the High Table and poured herself a glass of Arbor Gold left out from the night before. Taking a sip and contemplating is words, she couldn’t help the slight annoyance that rose from hearing that Petyr took matters into his own hands instead of letting her do it on her own. She wasn’t surprised in the least; she knew Petyr was an opportunist and apparently an opportunity presented itself. Either way, she was discontent and would be having words with him later. Continuing to ponder what Jon had said, she finally found the words to formulate her opinion.  
     “Lord Baelish isn’t completely wrong. I’m not a pawn in this game, Jon. I won’t be married off or remarried off to win the war. I have done my part, and now it is time for you to do yours. I agree that you should pursue a marriage with the Dragon Queen. It’s the most obvious and easy way to secure an alliance with her. However, i don’t suppose Baelish gave you a second plan of action if Daenerys Targaryen denies your proposal?” She asked. _Two can play the game_ , she thought.  
     “No, he didn’t. I suppose he assumed his proposed course of action would suffice. What’s your plan, then, eh? Your ideas.” Jon leaned back in his chair, giving her a sideways glance. She sat straighter, prepared to give him an alternative plan to Petyr’s. Taking a deep breath in, she replied.  
     “I think Lord Baelish’s plan is the best course of action. However, there is the chance that the Dragon Queen will deny your proposal. In that event, there’s only one option left.” She took her cup of wine and began to sip.  
     “And that would be?” Jon asked.  
     “Tell her of the imminent war with the White Walkers. Convey to her how dire that threat is, how its far worse than the threat from the South. Get her on our side, fighting to get through the Long Night. Winter has been coming for ten years, Jon. Winter isn’t coming any longer. Winter is here, and if she doesn’t help us fight, there will be no Iron Throne or Kings Landing or even Westeros for her to rule. Petyr is right. Marry her if you can, but be prepared if you can’t”. Jon took a moment to consider her counter-proposal. Quirking his brow, he spoke.  
     “So, its ‘Petyr’ now, is it?” He shook his head, and continued. “You believe the best course is to convince her that the Northern War is more important than her Southern one?”  
     “Yes. If we lose this war, there will be nothing for her to rule except snow and ashes, and she won’t be alive to see it”.

********

     Sansa left the Great Hall not long after her conversation with Jon. He said he had a great deal to consider, so she excused herself and vacated the Hall. She felt his stare before she acknowledged his presence, but moments later, Petyr was by her side.  
     “Good afternoon, my Lady. I noticed you were absent from the High Table this morning, I was concerned for you,” He began smugly. He knew she would miss the morning meal, considering her lack of sleep and the complete and utter exhaustion her body would be facing today. He also took note of the small limp she had, only noticeable when one was looking for it. This made his smug grin widen.  
     “You spoke to my brother after I expressly said that I wished to speak to him myself.” She replied coldly. She was growing extremely fond of him, and she knew that was dangerous. But, she knew of his fondness for her as well. She knew she was his weak spot, and she knew that she was the only one who could use it against him.  
     “The opportunity arose, _sweetling_. Not all of us have the luxury of remaining in bed until the midday meal. _Some of us have to get things done_.” He replied, whispering the last of it close to her ear. It seemed like she felt the words more than she heard them, like they ghosted down her spine, wrapped around her waist and nestled in between her legs. _Gods_ , she hated the effect he had on her.  
“ _Some of us_ will be cut down by Brienne’s longsword if we continue to speak like this,” Sansa replied, indicating that Brienne the Beauty was following them. Petyr continued to smile his smug grin, and offered his arm for Sansa to take.  
     "What are you doing,” Sansa asked, amusement clear in her tone. Not saying a word, Petyr nodded his head in the direction of his outstretched arm. A moment later, Sansa took his arm and heard Brienne’s footsteps quicken slightly. Petyr knew his proximity to Sansa would make her uncomfortable but he enjoyed watching her struggle between being Sansa’s body guard and her friend. She apparently chose the latter, as they approached Sansa’s chambers, Brienne became slower and more shadow-like.  
     “Might I suggest a hot bath and some rest, my Lady? You’re looking a bit tired and run-down this afternoon,” Petyr said, knowing it would annoy both Sansa and Brienne who he assumed was listening.  
     “I might do just that, my Lord. There was a pesky rodent in my chambers last night, I alum they just wanted to be out of the cold. Unbothered rest sounds lovely,” She replied, watching his smirk grow once more.  
     “Then I shall leave you to it, my Lady. Will I be seeing you at the evening meal tonight?” Taking her hand in his, he brought the pale, delicate skin to his lips and placed a soft kiss there.  
     “Oh, I’m sure you’ll see me, Lord Bealish. I don’t believe you could miss me”. And with that he was alone in the hall, her chamber door shut promptly in his face. His ever-present smirk on his face, he turned to walk away from her chamber, stopping only to give a bold ‘wink’ at Brienne as he passed by her.

********

     Leaning against her chamber door as she shut it, she couldn’t help the small smile that played on her lips. Yes, Petyr was a man she could marry and very easily never be bored of him. Of course, there were times that her annoyance for him far outweighed any of the budding feelings she had for him. Were they budding? she suddenly thought. She knew when she was younger, first arriving in King’s Landing, men like Ser Loras had caught her eye, but she also remembered always considering Petyr to be a handsome man, for his age.  
     “I was a stupid child then,” she said to herself, eyes not focused on anything in particular. She was brought out of her musings a moment later when there was a sharp, abrupt knock on her chamber door.  
     “Who is it?” Sansa asked, not bothering to get up yet.  
     “It’s Brienne, my Lady.” Sighing, Sansa stood up and unbolted the door, coming face to face with her she-knight. Considering the look on her face, Brienne was not pleased that Sansa was still spending time with Baelish.  
     “How are you this afternoon, Brienne?” Sansa asked, trying to diffuse the tension between them.  
     “Did Lord Baelish spend the night in your chambers last night, my Lady?” Sansa was surprised at how bold Brienne was being, for she usually attempted to delicately beat around the bush with matters like these. Where it concerned Sansa, at any rate. It always seemed to make her uncomfortable.  
     “Yes, he did.” Sansa replied easily. There was no use lying, Brienne clearly knew the answer. She wanted to hear it from Sansa herself. Her answer clearly didn’t satisfy Brienne, however, because she simply closed her eyes, set her jaw and exhaled.  
     “My Lady, I know I have no right to say this, but please, be careful with him. The things I’ve heard about him around the castle… Just promise me you’ll be careful with him. I made a promise to your mother to protect you. I would like to keep that promise to the best of my ability” Brienne finished, her usual serious grimace on her face. But, there was something else there, too, in her eyes. Sansa knew Brienne was genuinely worried about her, so she just nodded.  
     “I promise”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry its taken this long to update! ): I don't know how much longer I'll continue this story, it doesn't seem like its really going anywhere. Let me know in the comments if you want me to keep going, and if not that's totally okay too. Life has just been getting in the way lately. But, as always, I appreciate and welcome any comments, criticisms, and things you liked! Thank you for reading!


	9. Chapter 9

   Finally alone, Sansa took a moment to process what she had learned that afternoon. Petyr had clearly gone behind her back to speak to Jon, going a step further to persuade the White Wolf to marry the Dragon Queen instead of wedding Sansa to Tyrion Lannister, for the second time. Brienne was obviously keeping a closer eye on her and Petyr than she had previously believed. Lastly, she discovered that allowing the older man to remain in her chambers was not wise. She had to remember who she was dealing with.

   Sighing, Sansa decided she needed a bath, that the hot, soothing water would do her good. Requesting the hot bath and watching her handmaiden’s retreating back, she began to remove the outer layer of her clothing. She was trying to think of her next move in the game, but her mind kept drifting back to Petyr. He was not at all what she had expected. Fully clothed, one would assume he was rather scrawny, but Sansa had been pleasantly surprised to find that he had some definition of muscle in his chest, stomach, and arms. Not as much as her Knight of Flowers, but after the night she spent with him, she wasn’t about to complain.  
   And then there was his scar. She knew the story behind it, knew that once, Petyr was naive and in love. She hadn’t said anything about it and neither did he. But, the more she thought about who she was when she was younger, she figured Petyr was her twisted version of the handsome knight she used to dream about marrying one day. Despite all the bad he had done and all the chaos he had caused, he had saved her and all those reclaiming Winterfell. Although, she also wasn’t going to forget that she had been back in Winterfell _because_ of Littlefinger anytime soon.  
   Her handmaiden returning with the hot water brought her out of her musings. Sansa smiled at the young girl before thanking and dismissing her. Once she was alone again, she poured some lavender oils into the steaming water before removing the rest of her clothing and inching her way into the relaxing heat. She all but submerged herself, inhaling and exhaling, feeling herself relax. That was before she felt a pair of smooth, soft fingers working on her neck, pushing small circles of pressure into her skin. Sighing, she opened her eyes and tipped her head backwards to see him.  
   “And to think, I spent all night sweating to please you, and I wasn’t invited to join you,” he murmured close to her ear. She could hear him breathe in the scent of her, and she smirked before responding.  
   “I enjoy spending time on my own, if you were wondering.” She closed her eyes once again and sank back into the water. Soon after, she felt his hands leave her skin. All of the sudden, they were back and he was nudging her forward. Annoyed, she sat up and turned around to find that he was also bare and attempting to get into the bath with her. Huffing, she shifted forward so he could rest behind her. Once he was also submerged, he gently grabbed her shoulders to allow her to lean against his chest.  
   “That’s better, don’t you think,” he whispered in her ear, sending shivers down her spine. Simultaneously, he reached around her waist with one arm and brushed his fingers against her shoulder with his other hand. Sansa closed her eyes and exhaled. She really shouldn’t be this relaxed around him; who knew what he was plotting. She found she couldn’t help it, despite her inner voice screaming at her to run as far away from him as possible. His presence quieted the storm within her. Suddenly, the impending war was so minuscule, and all there was in this world was her and Petyr. Their skin pressed against each other, their synchronized breathing, his hands rubbing her shoulders and caressing her hair. Suddenly Sansa felt that slow burning between her legs and Petyr’s gentle touches weren’t enough.  
   Turning around in the bath, she saw Petyr quirk his brow before her lips collided with his. She felt him lift her slightly so her legs could rest on either side of his waist before he settled her on his lap, running his hands up her back and entwining his fingers in her damp hair. Breaking for breath, Sansa opened her eyes just a moment before Petyr opened his. She could see how they were glazed over with lust, but also something else. Contentment? Before she could decide what she saw in his grey-green depths, she felt him shift and grow beneath her. Inhaling sharply, she had only a moment to brace herself before he sank himself deep into her, allowing her to take as much of him as she wanted before her bottom touched his lap. She let a light moan escape her lips before he once again took her lips with his own and gave a deep thrust.

********

   Brienne was making her way down to the courtyard of Winterfell, where her daily sparring lessons with Pod occurred, when her squire came to an abrupt halt right in front of her.  
   “My Lady, where is Lady Sansa?” He asked in a breathless and rushed tone. Knitting her brows together, she replied.  
   “In her chambers, where I left her. Why, what is it, Pod?”  
   “His Grace asked me to find and summon her immediately, my Lady. He said it was urgent.”  
   Brienne regarded him for a moment before nudging her head in the opposite direction of the courtyard, indicating for Pod to follow her back to Lady Sansa’a chambers. Wasting no time in returning, she wondered what could be so pressing that her Lady couldn’t have but an hour of peace to herself. She had a feeling no good could come of it.  
   Reaching Lady Sansa’s chambers-remarkably quickly, she might add-, she pressed her ear to the door. She could hear no movement and assumed Lady Sansa must be sleeping. She proceeded to knock three times, and still, no response. Looking to Pod who’s face was still painted with worry and the urgency of the situation, she turned back to the door and found it unbolted. Upon opening it, she found that Sansa’s bed was unused and fresh. She and Pod wandered farther into the chamber in search of Sansa, slowly approaching the small room used for bathing. Through the crack in the door, Brienne saw her Lady sitting, naked, in the lap of none other than Lord Baelish. She would know that smarmy, arrogant bastard anywhere. Seething, she burst through the door, wasting no time.  
   “I’m terribly sorry to disturb you, my Lady, but his Grace has sent Podrick and me to summon you. He says it is of the upmost importance that you make an appearance in the Great Hall.” Taking a moment to watch the horrified look on Sansa’a face, Brienne turned once again out of the room and back into the hall. Pod, too, looked horrified.  
   “Head back to the Great Hall, Pod. It seems our lesson will have to wait until tomorrow.”

********

   Sansa sat there, absolutely still, trying to process what had just happened. She knew Brienne was furious with her. She had promised to essentially stay away from Petyr, but here she was, naked and on top of him in her bath. She didn’t know what possessed her to allow this to occur again, but she knew she couldn’t let it happen again.  
   Petyr, on the other hand, had only slowed his actions. He could tell she was anxious about what would happen when they went down to the Great Hall, so he remained as he was, placing wet kisses down her neck that would surely leave marks. After a moment of her continued stillness and silence, he sighed and shifted her slightly until he was completely slid out of her and was no longer under her. Getting out of the bath and grabbing a cloth to dry off with, he turned and saw that she had barely moved.  
   “We should get down to the Great Hall, sweetling, his Grace-“  
   “Don’t call me that,” She interrupted, not making eye contact with him. Pursing his lips, he continued.  
   “We wouldn’t want to keep your brother waiting.” He replied. Not waiting for her, he quickly redressed and left the room. Sansa never brought her eyes to meet his, and only after he left did she begin to dress herself.

********

   Once she finally reached the Great Hall, she found that nearly everyone left in Winterfell was present. She regarded everyone carefully, completely ignoring Petyr’s burning gaze and Brienne’s disappointed one. Finding her seat at the High Table, she sat next to Jon. He gave her a sideways glance and spoke.

   “I tried my best, Sansa”. Giving him a quizzical look, she was about to ask what he meant, when the Hall doors opened and her answer came semi-strutting through the opening.

   “It _is_ good to see you, my wife”. Tyrion Lannister looked directly at Sansa, but Sansa could only look at Petyr./p>


End file.
